


somewhere only we know

by fugitives



Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Not a real myth, Quest thing, parallel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fugitives/pseuds/fugitives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bragi and Hod go on a quest. Thousands of years later, so do Ty and Anders Johnson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somewhere only we know

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written an actual fic in ages blegh. I apologise for the terrible language, if any, and I hope you all like it! Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Almighty Johnsons, and this didn't really happen in Norse myth. I've taken some liberties with the actual myth canon as well.

He knew that it was a mistake to come here, here where even the hearth was cold and the mead provided no warmth and not even the touch of a woman could kindle any sort of fire. This was the domain of Hod after all, and Bragi should have expected nothing less. Nevertheless, he pulled his cloak tighter around him and stepped gingerly across the threshold of his halls. 

"Hod!" he called out. The dark walls stared glumly back at him, the vaulted ceiling hung with foreboding above. He shivered. Why would anyone, much less one blessed with the youth of Idunn's fruit, make their abode in a place such as this? 

"Bragi," came the response. Bragi turned. The black-robed god trod leisurely out to meet him. What little light there was fell on his face, pale as the snows of Svarltaheim. "You heeded my call."

"Yes, yes," he replied irritably, rubbing his palms together. "Though I know not why you had need of me; I'm certain it's not my company that you enjoy, given the harsh words we have exchanged over the years." He lifted an eyebrow at their surroundings. "And it is not my poetry you wish to indulge in, I expect, since your halls aren't even the least bit hospitable. A good thing too. The harp is a laborious luggage, even for one of the Aesir."

"Aye, you are right, for I have need for neither of those." Hod turned and walked towards his seat, a solitary chair on a low, unremarkable dais that was a mere slab of black stone. He bade Bragi follow, which the other god did with apprehension. "Flowery words uttered by wine-drenched lips have little power in swaying me, or in giving me pleasure." He must have felt the strange, slightly concerned look on Bragi's face, for he certainly could not have seen it. "I know every groove and tread in the stones of my hall, Bragi."

"Yes, of course," he replied graciously. "Even if you cannot feel pleasure, surely you can appreciate a simple emotion such as concern." Hod paused at the top of the dais and gave him a dark look before lowering himself slowly onto his seat, oblivious to Bragi's smirk. An awkward moment's silence hung between the two gods. Bragi looked around as if expecting something to happen. Perhaps a servant would come out with some food, even if they offered little more than sustenance. None came. He sighed and shifted his feet. "A cup of wine would be most appreciated," he prompted.

Hod looked blankly in his direction.

Bragi rolled his eyes. "Never mind." The halls of Hod weren't exactly famed for its hospitality anyway. "Why am I here?"

His grim expression shifted into something more--Bragi was surprised to find doubt wrought into the creases of his youthful face. "What do you know about mortality?"

Another pause. And then, "What?"

Hod closed his eyes in an attempt to not fly into blind anger. "Did you not hear me the first time, Bragi?"

"I did. I'm not deaf as you are blind." Those words may have cut a little deeper than he had intended it to. "What do you mean by mortality?"

"Exactly what I meant. Mortality. Being human."

"And I am still shrouded in confusion, as you can see. Oh," Bragi clicked his tongue, "forgive me. You can't."

"I'm blind, not dumb, you arrogant creature." Hod sat back in his chair and inhaled sharply. "I wish to know how to become a mortal."

Silence again. "Why?"

Some of that anger was shed as Hod looked to one side, away from Bragi. His lips were still. The other god closed his eyes and sighed. "I am unable to help if you do not tell me what I need to know."

"You do not need to know why."

"Alright." A different approach then. "Why ask me? Why did you not go to Kvasir?"

"Because Kvasir is bound by oath to answer any question he is asked, whereas you are not. And I do not wish my intentions to be discovered by the Allfather, or worse," the lines of his mouth folded themselves into a scowl, "Loki." He glanced back up. "And are you not numbered among the wise of our kind?"

"My wisdom lies in wordplay, fashioning visions of splendour from their meek and unassuming forms. Sowing the seeds of emotion that may move both mortals and gods alike--"

"And getting them to do as you bid?" Hod arched an eyebrow at him.

" 'Tis not my fault if their interests and mine happen to be aligned... after I've had a word or two with them."

"I feel nothing but sympathy for Idunn."

"Leave her out of this. She is in love with me of her own will."

Hod snorted, but did not counter with a reply.

"You still haven't told me why you want to become a mortal."

"It's not important."

"If I'm going to be an instrument in casting a member of the Aesir out of our ranks, then I'd better have a good reason for it. The Allfather won't be happy about this."

"How queer. I did not anticipate that."

"You know that it pleases me when you attempt humour but I cannot find it within myself to be amused at this moment."

He sighed. "Alright, I'll tell you. After you think of a way to become a mortal."

Bragi scoffed and frowned. "Stop eating Idunn's apples."

Hod lifted his eyebrows. "I'll die."

"Is that not what you intended to do?"

"I'll die a god. That is the opposite of what I wanted."

Bragi thought about that sentence for a moment, then grinned and shook a finger at him. "You want to live as a mortal. Hah, 'tis clever, Hod, even for the likes of you."

"Do you have another way?"

He put a hand to his beard and stroked it as he searched the recesses of his mind, memory, for any scrap of information that may be useful. What else was there that kept them all alive and young save for the golden apples? Mortality, mortality... that signified death. It seemed ironic that the dark god, who heralds winter as surely as winter heralds death, should seek mortality.

"Mayhap it is the opposite you should seek," mused Bragi to himself. Hod creased his brows together. He resumed his train of thought, this time aloud, "Mayhap it is not mortality, that which culminates ultimately in death, that should be your goal, but the opposite. Life." He turned to him expectantly.

Hod caught the proverbial ball. "The tree of life."

Bragi's lips widened in a satisfied grin. "There you have it. It is Yggdrasil you should seek, then."

He quickly frowned. "But what do I do once I find it?"

"Ah that..." Bragi found himself at a loss for words for the first time that day. "That... I do not know."

The dark god got to his feet with an angry huff. "I am loth to have to speak to Kvasir."

"And I understand that. I'm sure that between the two of us, we may think of something yet." He tilted his head. "But this is a good start, yes? Seek Yggdrasil first, and the rest may follow."

"But Yggdrasil that which flows through all of the Nine Worlds is but a tale, is it not?" Hod cast him a wary look. "Even as we are but mere stories to the mortals, Yggdrasil, Ragnarok, the wells of Mimir--they are stories even unto us. How are we to search for something that might not exist?" He covered his face with his hands. "It would seem that we have no choice but to speak to Kvasir after all, and by doing so I may as well march into the Allfather's halls and declare my intentions!"

"For the god of winter you have a rather fiery temper, don't you think?"

"Your brand of humour has never impressed me, Bragi."

"That is hurtful, Hod. Truly." He sighed. "Hearken to me, Hod. If you fear discovery, seek Yggdrasil out first."

"And then what follows? What if Yggdrasil is not the answer?"

"Then I shall command Idunn to stop sending you apples." Hod made a face and moved to say something but Bragi silenced him by placing a hand on his icy shoulder. "I do not see any other way, do you?"

"No," he said at last, sounding crestfallen. "I suppose not." He snapped his head back up again. "But you're coming with me."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm blind, you fool. I require a travelling companion."

"Ullr is a better choice of a travelling companion for this sort of thing, isn't he?"

"He takes off at the slightest whiff of game, and is hardly reliable. Anyway, I reckon it that it is easier to seek Yggdrasil than to seek him out. Odin knows which of the Nine he is in right now, chasing dwarfs or... or..."

"Jotunn women?"

"That too."

Bragi sighed. "Very well, then. Idunn will not be pleased. And you still owe me an explanation."

Hod frowned. "For what?"

"Why do you want to be mortal so badly?" Bragi snuck around him and sat on Hod's chair, crossing one leg over the other. He held the reins of this negotiation now, and he enjoyed it, tugging other gods along his string. "If you do not tell me, then I will not go with you on this... quest."

Bragi closed his eyes. He had hoped that it would not come to this. "Do you promise not to laugh? Or make mockery or me? Or tell anyone?"

"Not a soul."

"Not even Idunn?"

"What do you take me for, Hod? I am a god of my word."

___________

"Ty?"

He heaved a sigh and looked across the dining table at his beloved wife. Her gaze was chilly, her lips petulant. And incredibly kissable... "What?" he asked tautly.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

It was the same conversation all over and over again. Every meal. Every argument. Ty, why aren't you eating? Ty, why aren't you home earlier? Ty, don't you like my music? Ty, why aren't you fucking me hard enough? Eva was cold steel and hellfire contained in an ivory shell. She was the only one who could melt through his icy defenses--defenses that he hadn't asked for, because they shielded the visceral pleasures of the world from him and it made him angry. Where her rage was hot and scalded his skin with careless abandon, his burned like the chill of winter would gnaw at human bones. Their fires, when melded together, opened up an entirely new world to him: a world of dark passion and wanton need--the need to hurt and feel so completely that he could lose himself.

Some more words were said--he couldn't remember what they were other than that they were the product of his barely-controlled rage. Then she was on her back on the table, the food swiped carelessly to one side--Ty had put her there, hiked her skintight skirt up, and drove his cock into her amidst the clatter of the dishes smashing onto the floor and loud, gothic music playing in the background. The world had whittled down to just the two of them--her screams of anguished glee, her skin hot pliant hard and soft in his hands, her wet heat searing into his blood and chasing away the cold.

He'd never felt so alive, and yet so dead.

They fucked some more in the bedroom. In their own little hell, food, sleep and time ceased to mean anything. And yet Ty was more aware of anything and everything. He hated it, hated that everything that felt real to him at this point wasn't the one that he wanted to feel real. Eva might have been the queen of the underworld, his lust, and their little fucked-up play at married life, but his heart ached for Dawn.

Later, after they were both spent, his thoughts wandered to Agnetha's words. He knew that Eva, no matter how much she mattered to him--mattered? No, Dawn mattered. But so did Eva. What? He barely knew Eva. He loved Dawn. He loved Eva too. He loved them both. Fuck.

"I can't keep going on like this," he muttered as he pushed himself up. Beside him, Eva let out an incomprehensible murmur and rolled over on her other side. He sighed with relief, then caught himself. No man should have to feel that way about their wife. No woman deserved that.

He glanced at Eva's back, the scars and bruises that he had left there in the throes of passion. He had expressed concern for them once. Maybe we should take a step back before we hurt each other--that had earned a hard strike from her. Then she had accused him of not loving her anymore, what was the point in marrying her if he didn't mean to stick to it, why did he bother to promise her a lifetime of love and happiness if he was only going to walk out when it finally scared him?

Agnetha was right. If he continued to stay, he would never be able to leave. And he wanted to. God knows he wanted it right now more badly than anything else. He didn't want to look at her bruised face one day and know that he had left them there, but she would only laugh and press her heated lips to his neck and seduce him back to their bed.

He slipped out from under the covers, pulled his briefs on and crept out across the living room and into his alone space--everyone seemed to like to call it the freezer, but for Ty, it was his refuge--with his mobile in his hand and dialled her number. 

"Ty." He hated the undertone of smugness in her voice. "So you've thought about my offer?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I'll take it," he replied reluctantly. Ty could almost hear the smile on her face. "Good boy. I'll arrange the first flight out for you." There was a small pause. "It's a good decision, Ty."

He gritted his teeth. "It better be."


End file.
